Don't Hide Your Mistakes
by Peeta Melark
Summary: Annabeth Chase has committed a crime against Olympus and her own home, Camp Half-Blood. Now she is a runaway, hiding from the mistakes she made. To stay safe, she must leave herself behind, but it's harder than it seems. The title is a line from the Three Days Grace song "Get Out Alive."
1. Chapter 1

The dagger dropped from my hands, falling through the crisp, dark night air. It spiraled through the silence before dropping with a bloody clang. His eyes burned in my memory, very green, very confused, and very, very brave. The memory of the knife stroke burned in my mind too, like hot, molten metal being dripped through my skull. I wondered who else had heard the knife falling, hitting the cold floor. I wondered who it would be… the person who came running to find him dead. It didn't matter, of course, because I would be long gone by then. Already, my feet were running, though my mind was still back in that cabin, with the knife and the dead boy.

By the time my mind and body merged again, I was already several miles away. I had long since ceased running. My steps were aimless, just taking me farther away from my former home. I couldn't stay there anymore. Not after what I'd done. Someone was bound to find him dead, and then they would have to tell his mother, who would have to call the police, and there would be investigations—as far as mortals _could_ investigate a Camp Half-Blood death. I'd be a wanted criminal. There would be posters saying things like:

_Have you seen this girl? She's smart, blonde, grey-eyed and a murderer. Please return her to Long Island so her godly mother can vaporize her on the spot. _

Other people would be after me too. Not just gods, but other demigods. Nico would be after me, regardless of whether or not he really had a crush on me. Thalia and her Hunters would be hunting me down, and so would the mortal police. Maybe Chiron would just file a missing person report. They'd find me that way, and then the gods could give me whatever immense punishment I deserved. No one would ask me _why_ I did what I did. But that was good. No one could know the truth.

I didn't have a phone, but that was just as well. What would I do with one, turn myself in? That would be ridiculous! If I turned myself in, there would be trouble. Not only for me, but also for his family. If they found out what I'd done, that would destroy them—especially his mother. And they'd find out soon enough anyways.

After another hour or so of walking and running, I came to a stop in front of an old building. There was a sign that said _Room for Rent_, so I went in. I was eighteen, old enough to rent my own room, and I was certainly responsible enough.

The woman at the desk took the gold coins I offered without much thought. I guessed she either had worse vision through the Mist than most mortals, or she just didn't care to tell me that what I was paying was way too much. It was better that way, I thought. She wouldn't ask questions so long as I was paying her, now would she?

My room was shabby and covered in a thick layer of dust. Shelves were crumbling and wallpaper was peeling, but it was better than nothing. No one would think to look for me here.

With a heavy sigh, I lay down on the dusty bed and closed my eyes. When the dreams found me, I wished I hadn't.

* * *

In my dream, I was standing in the throne room of Mount Olympus. His dead body was lying on an altar in front of me, the gods standing around it like they were deciding what to do with a pile of garbage. Really valuable, demigod garbage. Finally, Poseidon stepped forward, his brow creased with anger, grief and concern.

"Brother," he said, his tones deep and dangerous. "Zeus, I beg of you. My son has served you well. He has always defended Olympus, and he has always been loyal to… to the ones he loves…"

Zeus grunted, nodding his head. His blue eyes looked positively threatening. "I suppose. But you understand that what you ask is a big thing, rewarded only to the greatest of heroes?"

Poseidon bowed his head. His eyes were very green and all too familiar. "I understand."

The king of Olympus raised his arms. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning crackled.

I never saw what happened next.

* * *

I woke up screaming. At least I think I did. My throat was raw and my eyes stung with tears. He was really dead. Percy was really, very dead. Tremors coursed through my body, and the chill in the air didn't make things any better.

I would have to go shopping somehow, to get new clothes. And I'd have to dye my hair. I couldn't walk around with blonde hair, grey eyes and tattered clothes if I wanted to stay on the run. And I couldn't stay in one place for too long. I had some mortal money—a lot, actually (I'd prepared it beforehand). But how long before that ran out too?

"Young lady?" called the woman. I ran down the stairs, nearly slipping in my haste.

"Yes?"

"I never got your name."

"Oh…" I hadn't thought of a name. "It's, um, well, you see… My name is…"

She tapped her foot. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"No, ma'am. It's just… My name… It's Maria."

The woman looked me up and down, and I could tell she was thinking I didn't look much like a Maria. Truthfully, it felt almost sacrilegious to use Nico's mother's name after I'd just committed murder.

"What are you doing here, dear?" she asked. She was much kinder than she had been when I first came to her door earlier in the day.

"I'm, um, here for… To start over."

"Oh." She smiled sympathetically. "Well, my name's Annie, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am." I checked my pockets for my wallet before turning and running through the door. The nearest store sold cosmetics, hair dye and toiletries. The shop several blocks down sold clothing, and there were little cafes and restaurants all around. It wasn't a big town. Perfect. No one would look for me there. But where _was_ I? How long had I been running for? How far did I get?

"That's an awful lot of dye, miss," said the young man behind the counter. I looked up at him and felt a pang of guilt. With pale skin that might've been olive once, dark eyes and black hair, he looked a lot like Nico. But he looked happy, incredibly happy. His voice was almost teasing. And he was older than Nico by about four years.

"I have an awful lot of hair," I parried. "And I'm tired of blonde."

He leaned on the counter with his elbows, reminding me of Percy. "Afraid people don't take you seriously?"

I shook my head. "I just want to change."

The young man nodded. I studied his nametag. Jake. Finally, he sighed. "I get what you mean. My boyfriend keeps dying his hair all kinds of odd colors. I guess he just wants a change too."

I laughed. "Yeah, well _my _boyfriend—" I stopped, tears springing to my eyes. Jake frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"He's dead," I whispered before fleeing the shop. Jake called after me, but I was too far away to think of turning back. It didn't take me long to get back to the house. When I did, I was prepared for the long, arduous task ahead of me. I was going to obliterate Annabeth Chase. In order to survive, I would have to become someone else entirely.


	2. Chapter 2

Dying my hair was, surprisingly, one of the most painful things I ever had to do. I sat in the bathroom, crying as the color shifted and slowly turned dark reddish brown. It took nearly two hours, mostly due to my incompetence and inexperience with a package of dye, and my inability to read the English instructions. When I was done, I stared brokenly into the mirror, wondering who the girl on the other side was and what she might want with me.

I changed slowly into a pair of pajama pants and a loose, grey top and changed the sheets on my bed. I decided to clean the room in the morning. I was far too tired to do that right away, even though the dust was practically grinning at me.

As I lay in bed, trying in equal measures to stay awake and fall asleep, my mind wandered to the guy at the store. I wondered why he was in this tiny little nothing of a town. Was he born here? Was his boyfriend born here, and _that_ was the reason he was here now? Did they meet here? Were they going to college? Why did he work at that tiny little shop on that tiny little block? Was it a boring job? Probably. Eventually, though, I did have to fall asleep.

I dreamt about killing Percy. The way his eyes flashed in the moonlight reflecting off of my dagger blade. He hadn't screamed. All he'd said was, "Annabeth… Why are you—?" And then he'd been perfectly still, blood pouring from the wound, his eyes still open. I dropped the dagger for the millionth time, saw his life leave him for the millionth time.

Again, I woke up screaming. It was morning, and Annie was somewhere downstairs. I stared miserably around the room. With dread, I noticed that it was perfectly clean. On the table, next to my bed, there were several drachmas… Oh no. Oh no, no, no. That could only mean one thing. They knew where I was and I wasn't fooling anyone. Either that or Annie had come in and cleaned while I was asleep. I prayed it was the second option. Annie was harmless. The gods were not.

"Maria!" Annie called. "Maria, dear, how do you like your room?"

I gave a sigh of relief. It was only Annie who had come in and cleaned while I was asleep. But that didn't make me feel too much better. Annie was mortal. What if she'd found my weapons, my pictures?

"It's fine!" I yelled back. "Um, I think I forgot something at the store. I'll just run out and get it, okay?"

"Go ahead, dear! I'm just here to take your money and clean your room!"

I laughed despite the anger and sadness I felt. For the day I'd known her, Annie proved to be a good woman at heart. She was full of sarcasm and wit, if not a little stupidity here and there. I would come to know her as… almost a grandmother of sorts.

The store was quiet when I got there. Jake was behind the counter, enjoying the peace with some other guy. The guy was taller and blue-haired, but he reminded me a bit of Leo. There was something in his smile and the way he laughed, or those gestures he kept making. He was like Leo in the way he spoke. I could hear little bits of their conversation, and it seemed to be entirely in French and Spanish. While one spoke in one language, the other responded in another. Both seemed to understand.

It would have been rude just to go in and out without buying anything. I'd always felt awkward about that. I wandered around until I found something useful—a small bag of makeup sponges—and then went to pay.

"Hey there!" Jake grinned. "Are you feeling better?"

His boyfriend looked in confusion from me to him. "You… know her?"

Jake laughed good-naturedly. "Sure! Me and Maria go way back."

"Maria and _I_."

"Maria and I," Jake repeated. "Hey, Maria, this is Noah."

Noah waved. He seemed oddly shy. I paid for my sponges and left.

Annie was watching the news when I got back. As I'd expected, Percy was the main story. The reporter droned on and on.

"_A boy was found dead yesterday in Long Island. Perseus—Percy—Jackson was found stabbed to death in his room at a summer camp. While the counselors will not allow anyone to know the location of the camp or set foot inside, they are very concerned. He was found dead by his friend Nico di Angelo, who is distraught. More on this story after the break._"

I gave a sigh of relief. They didn't mention me. Maybe no one suspected me. Maybe they'd mention me later. Under the pretense of reading a book, I sat in the chair opposite the TV. Annie barely glanced up from her knitting.

"Maria, is that you?" she called. She was much louder than she needed to be. I gave a small noise of recognition and continued "reading." Annie chuckled, muttering to herself about kids these days and their phones. Then she glanced at my book and amended her statement. The news flashed back on.

_"Back to Percy. Can you imagine that this sweet-faced eighteen year-old boy would have been found dead in his room? Nico di Angelo, who is not willing to give any statement whatsoever, found him dead last night with a bronze dagger lying next to the bed. Mr. Brunner, the head counselor says they suspect eighteen year-old Annabeth Chase in the killings. If you see her, please contact authorities immediately_."

A picture of Percy and I filled the screen. It was from his eighteenth birthday party. He was grinning, and so was I. Then it faded to a more somber picture of me—a photo I'd taken for my college applications. I guess they wanted to be able to recognize me in any situation. But with my dyed hair, I wasn't really Annabeth anymore. In this tiny little town, I was Maria.

Annie clucked disapprovingly, staring at the screen.

"So pretty and young," she said. "Why did she kill him?"

She wasn't asking me, so I didn't answer. The TV droned on about puppies and snakes in parks and all this boring stuff that wasn't relevant to me. Percy's eyes still seemed to peer out at me from the screen, beautiful, sea green and piercing. I wanted to cry.

Annie turned to me, looking concerned.

"Maria, dear, could you tell me more about yourself?"

I faltered, about to protest, but her eyes were so old and bored. I just couldn't say no. I sighed, leaning back in my seat, wondering what I might have to make up.

"Well, I… I was born in San Francisco, but I've lived in, um, Maine for most of my life. I visited Long Island when I was about ten, but I've never been there since. And, um, I came here because I wanted to get away from my dad and stepmother. They're kind of nuts, so I guess I just wanted to start off on my own."

"Here?" Annie asked incredulously. "Why, there's hardly anything to do here! What do you want to be when you grow up, dear?"

I almost said _an architect_, but I knew it'd be on the news. My appearance here coupled with Percy's death would be all too suspicious. Instead, I stuttered, "A-an actress."

Annie studied me. "Is that so? Well, you've certainly got the face for it… Could you read me some lines from a play later? I've always wanted to hear someone read lines."

"I…" I didn't know much about acting, but I had to keep up appearances. "Sure. Sure… No problem."

I took the remote cautiously, testing if it was okay, and switched to another news channel. This one was talking about Percy. There were pictures too: of me, of Nico, of Percy, of the murder scene, of Percy and I together. Pictures. Pictures, pictures, pictures. Too many pictures. I felt like screaming and running away.

"_And more about the mystery of Percy Jackson. Police are on the lookout for Annabeth Chase, who is suspected of stabbing her boyfriend to death with a bronze knife. There are no known motives_."

I shuddered. If they knew the reason I'd done it, then they wouldn't be hunting me down. If they knew how many lives I'd saved by taking one, they wouldn't want me in custody. They'd be _thanking _me for my service to the world—the _universe, _even. But who cared anyways? It wouldn't make me feel any better. It wouldn't get his eyes out of my head; the way they'd been so brave during those last moments. Nothing could ever remove the guilt, the nightmares, the horrible grief I felt at Percy's death. Heck, I didn't even feel like _I'd_ really done it. It was as if someone else had killed him, and I was just a grief-stricken bystander.

"I'm going out," I told Annie. "Do you want anything?"

She gave me the list and I turned to go. As I marched down the block, my hands shoved into my sweater pocket, I turned a corner and crashed into someone I hadn't counted on seeing.


	3. Chapter 3

In my panic, I crashed into him. He was tall and blond and not who I'd expected him to be. In fact, it wasn't even someone I knew! In my rush, I'd mistaken him for Luke. Sure, he was built like Luke, with blond hair and blue eyes, but he wasn't Luke—he _couldn't_ be!

Quickly, I scrambled to my feet and grabbed my stuff and tried to make a break for it. The guy grabbed my arm and spun me around. He looked angry, confused and a little curious.

"Do I know you?" he asked cautiously. I shook my head hurriedly, trying to pull away. His fingers were strong as he gripped my wrist, but I was stronger. I yanked my arm away and stared him down.

"No," I spat coldly. "I'm new here."

He laughed good-naturedly. "Well, you won't make any friends like that."

I forced my cheeks to flush with color and looked away, trying to play up the "shy, dumb girl" act. He seemed to buy it.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "You just scared me. I'm Maria."

He took my offered hand. "I'm Jenkins—Ryan Jenkins. Nice to meet you."

With a small smile, I noticed that his handshake was very firm and steady… confident, I thought too. He grinned, pulling his hand away as I stared. I hadn't realized I was still holding it.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "It's just… you look just like someone I knew. He's, um, dead now."

Ryan Jenkins shook his head dazedly. "I'm sorry. Will I see you around? I'd better get to work. I'm trying to earn enough to get out of here. I mean, I'm eighteen! Time to start my life."

We parted ways on that note, him smiling and whistling, me wary and upset. I didn't want to fall for him like I'd fallen for Luke. Luke had been very, very bad, and I didn't want to forget about Percy. If I forgot about Percy, maybe I'd be safer, but I wouldn't be happier. I'd always be in love with him… those sea green eyes sparkling in the sun, the way his hair fell into his face, his easy movements as he fought, and that little crease of his eyebrows when he was worried. I'd never see them again because he was dead. I'd killed him. I'd raised the dagger and brought it down on the one person I loved more than life itself. Percy Jackson—a hero, a good boyfriend, excellent son. How many people had I ripped him away from?

No, I told myself. If they knew my reasons, they wouldn't be so judgmental. They would all thank me for my service. Perhaps I would receive medals of valor. I would be a hero, not some outcast girl running from the gods themselves. And it was only a matter of time before they found me. They probably knew where I was already, just didn't have time to hunt me down. Whatever Zeus had been doing in my dream must have been big.

"What have I done?" I whispered. "Oh, gods, what have I done?"

There was no reply, but thunder boomed in the distance. I wondered if I'd blown my cover. By saying the simplest of words, I had revealed myself to the Olympians. When would they visit? Would it be days, months, years? Would they wait for me in the Underworld to give out the supreme punishment? Maybe they would just leave me alone. Maybe everyone would just leave me alone.

Thankfully, I found a small park with a tiny fountain. It wasn't very populated, and there were leaves everywhere, but it was awfully quiet, which was good. I went there every day for three weeks, sat on the rim of the fountain, and stared into the water, wishing Percy were there to make it jump and splash like he always did to make me laugh. Just the thought would have made me laugh if I weren't so heartbroken.

I'd _had_ to kill Percy. If I hadn't done it, he would have suffered a fate worse by far. I had helped him by killing him. Wherever he was—in Elysium, probably—he had to know I'd done it because I loved him. He had to know I still loved him. Nothing would change that.

"Percy," I whispered. For a second, I thought I saw his image flicker in the bottom of the fountain, but a tear dripped from my eye, sending ripples through it. When I looked, he was gone. "Percy, I'm sorry."

The wind rustled as if in reply. Water splashed out from the fountain, hitting me in the face. I flinched. It was what Percy would have done if he'd seen me crying. But why now? Why did nature hate me _that_ much?

"Percy, please," I begged, staring deeper into the water. "Percy, please stop!"

I knew he couldn't hear me. He was dead, gone, murdered. He couldn't hear a word I said, and he wouldn't care anyways. What would a dead guy care for his living, murdering, lying girlfriend? He wouldn't care that I'd given up Annabeth Chase for Maria Lyre (notice the last name sounded like _liar_). He'd probably tell me I didn't need to pretend. It was just him. I was safe.

"But I'm not safe," I whispered. "I'm never _going_ to be safe. I _killed_ someone!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

I spun around. "Ryan!"

He watched me warily with those blue eyes, looking like he couldn't decide whether to smile or frown. Finally, I came up with a valid excuse.

"I'm just, um, practicing lines. I'm trying to… to practice for an audition."

"An audition?" he asked, sitting down next to me. "An audition for what?"

"Don't you have work?" I tried not to sound rude. Ryan didn't seem too bothered as he shrugged his strong shoulders.

"I'm done for the day, sweetheart—"

"Maria—"

"What audition is this?"

I closed my eyes, forcing a blush. My cheeks heated up quickly and I glanced back up nervously. Ryan's smile didn't help. Breathing rapidly, I hoped the delay would just seem like embarrassment to him.

"There isn't one," I admitted shyly. "I'm just practicing."

"I'll get you one," he said. "Give me a week or two—maybe more or less—and I'll get you an audition. I've got connections. My parents…" he trailed off. "Just count on me. I'll call you… except I don't have your number."

I shrugged. "Don't have a phone. You can come to my room… the one I rent from Annie."

This seemed to ring a bell. "All right," he said. "See you around, Maria."

With that, he was gone. I walked back "home" slowly, smiling through a mist of pain. My heart beat steadily towards its end, which would inevitably come. But it had begun. The audition Ryan was finding only made it official. I wasn't Annabeth Chase anymore. No. I was becoming Maria Lyre, the shy girl with dark hair, a coy smile and frilly, pretty clothes. For some reason, I wasn't too sad to see myself go.


	4. Chapter 4

Ryan found me an audition soon enough. For a while, I didn't hear from him, and I worried that he'd ditched me in this tiny little town. It wasn't really a horrible thought, seeing as he hardly knew me, but it wasn't a nice on either. But then I learned that he was in New York, visiting his aunt and uncle. There was a buzz around town about the mystery girl who had captured his heart. When he returned, he brought gifts for her… for _me_.

The audition was for _Romeo and Juliet_. I was young enough, they said, to play Juliet, and I looked even younger. But the process was long and arduous. Every night, I had a new scene to study, to learn, to think about. Every audition and callback was a nightmare. I listened to other girls practicing loudly, boastingly, flashing their sapphire eyes and ruby lips. By the time I was called in, I was a nervous wreck.

In the end, I got the part. The director said it was something about my innocent face and pure reading that made them choose me. The other girls, they said, were too tainted with makeup and adulthood to be Juliet. I was young, naïve and pretty enough… whatever _that_ meant.

"Congrats, Maria!" Ryan exclaimed, throwing his arms around me. I got the same reaction (only with less hugging) from Jake and Noah. Annie was overjoyed, though she didn't seem to know quite why. She was rather confused and senile on that particular afternoon. It didn't bother her to hear some of my lines or to look over the play with me. And she wanted to make me a special dinner as a celebration. I knew that meant she would make sandwiches and pie, which was fine by me.

"Phone for you, dear!" she called. I got up and took it.

"Hello? This is Maria. What do you—?"

"_We know you_," said a deep, dangerous voice. "_You cannot hide forever, daughter of Athena_."

I made a small choking noise. What was I going to do? Act? Run? Slam the phone down and hide?

"I don't… understand," I said. "Who's Athena? What daughter?"

_"You cannot hide. We will find you eventually_."

I hung up, breathing heavily. Annie came into the room, holding a knife and a jar of mayonnaise. When she saw my face, she gasped and rushed over, setting the mayonnaise and the knife down on the table.

"Maria, are you all right? You've gone white as a sheet!"

I nodded unsteadily. "Just a weird call. My dad. I don't… talk to him anymore, but he wants me at his wedding."

Annie snorted. "Well I hope you said no way!"

I laughed breathily. "Yeah. I… I did. Look, I'm going to go out for a bit. I'll be back by seven thirty."

I didn't wait for a reply before running out the door. I crashed into Ryan as I turned the corner, just like the day we'd met. He grabbed me by the elbows and smiled, laughing a little. I forced myself to laugh too. If he noticed the strain, Ryan didn't say anything. He engulfed me in a hug, allowing me to bury my face in his green pullover. He looked, as always, like a young teacher. It was his work dress code, he told me. But he promised he dressed down on the weekends.

"Hey, Maria!" he chuckled. "Where are you off to in a hurry?"

Not wanting to be rude, I shrugged as best I could without shaking him off. He removed his hands from my arms anyways, frowning.

"Is something wrong?"

With a sigh, I shook my head, biting my lip in an attempt to look bashful and pretty. Ryan cupped my cheek in his hand. He wasn't fooled. I could see in his eyes that he was starting to catch on to me, to the way my face grew shadowed when I mentioned my family, the way I stuttered when I was asked a question about my life before, the way I was dumber than dumb around other people while I devoured book after difficult book when I was alone. He noticed the way I tried to sound like a lost little girl, but my eyes were full of wisdom beyond my years. He wanted answers too.

"It's just… I got a phone call. It's nothing serious. You shouldn't worry."

"Shouldn't I?" he asked. "You're very worrying sometimes."

"I'm _fine_." I shoved him away from me. "Thank you for the audition. I hope you'll come see me in the play sometimes."

"Maria, wait—" He grabbed my wrist as I tried to run away. "I really like you."

This wasn't happening, was it? I shut my eyes tightly, trying to pretend I wasn't thinking about… about _him_. Percy's eyes flickered in my mind, haunting, teasing, tormenting me for what I'd done. I collapsed, Ryan's arms barely supporting me. He let me sink to my knees, sobbing. I could barely hear his soothing whispers over the roaring in my ears. I could see the bloody knife in my hands. It was like that scene from _Macbeth_, where she was trying to wash away the blood. I was terrified.

"Percy," I sobbed. I was so distraught, I barely recognized that I'd said his name. Ryan gasped, backing away. He studied my face, eyes wide and horrified.

"You're… you're that girl!" he puzzled aloud. "Annabeth, isn't it?"

In my distress, I murmured, "Yes."

"I can't… _you_? You killed him?"

Again, I murmured, "Yes." Tears streamed down my cheeks. I felt cold all over, like someone was pressing ice to be back of my neck. "I had to."

Ryan stammered, "I-I-I should report you. I should get the p-police, sh-shouldn't I?"

I stood up, reaching for his arm, staggering. "No! You don't understand. I… I have to go."

"Who _are_ you?" he cried. "I thought… I thought I knew you, Maria!"

The way he spat my false name was like a slap to the face. He was right. He didn't know me. I wasn't the giggly, flirty girl he'd gotten to know. He probably wouldn't even like me if he knew what I was really like. Still, I had to explain. Maybe he could help me.

"Ryan, listen to me!" I shrieked. "You need to help me."

"Why should I?"

It was a good question. Why should he trust me? I'd lied to him and now he knew the truth. He knew I was a murderer. For all he knew, I'd done it in cold blood. But there was no other option. If I was going to leave this small town and run away, I needed someone who I could trust—a connection to the mortal world. Maybe we'd start a life together. I could learn to love him, couldn't I?

"Why don't we go get some coffee," I said. "I'll tell you everything. I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

Ryan and I sat in the coffee shop for a long time, neither of us saying anything, both of us too scared to make the first move. I stared into my coffee mug, sipping at it robotically. Eventually, it was cold. Still, I felt compelled to keep sipping it, desperately looking for an excuse not to talk. Finally, Ryan made the first move towards conversation.

"Annabeth—"

"Call me Maria. I'm Maria now."

"Maria," he corrected himself. "What were you thinking? I mean, I've only known you a couple of months, but I can't believe you would kill a guy in cold blood. Especially not your boyfriend."

I glanced around the coffee shop nervously, searching for listening ears or prying eyes. Nothing. No one was there. In fact, the shop was closed down for the night. It was Ryan's grandmother's coffee shop. He lived right above, he told me. I wasn't really surprised, but I insisted we go to the park.

"I'll tell you everything there," I promised. "I just feel… claustrophobic here."

Ryan took my hand, pulling me up from my chair. We left the shop quietly and walked like that, hand in hand, to the park. There wasn't a soul in sight. For a moment, I was afraid I would turn around and see Nico di Angelo watching me, smiling perhaps. His smiles never meant anything good. I shivered.

"Cold?" Ryan asked, shrugging off his Jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders. I shook my head in protest all the while.

"Why?" I asked. "You're being so good to me. I'm a murderer."

With a sad smile, Ryan said, "But you're good. I can feel it in my heart that you're good. Can you tell me why?"

The familiar panic rose in my chest. My palms were sweaty and my breaths were quick. Cold air shot down my throat, freezing my lungs. I choked out, "All right."

Ryan waited expectantly.

"You know those Greek myths we all read when we're kids?" I asked. He nodded. "I don't know how… how to say this, but… They're all real."

He blinked, running a hand through his sandy hair. I'd confused him. I could _feel_ the confusion rolling off of him like a thick fog.

"I don't understand…"

"You don't have to," I murmured. "If one of my other friends were here, I could prove it to you. My mother is A-Athena. Percy was Poseidon's son. My friend—former friend—Nico is the son of Hades. It's why I'm always reading in Greek. I can't really read English that well."

"So you're not an actress?" he asked dazedly. I shook my head.

"No." Suddenly, I felt bad. I was lying to his face. Even as I told him the truth, I was lying. I was making him call me Maria, when that wasn't me at all! I was trying to convince him that I hadn't _really_ lied. That was almost worse than the actual lying.

"Who _are_ you?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. I'm eighteen years old, and the former girlfriend of Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon. My dad is Dr. Fredrick Chase, but I haven't seen him in nearly six months. I killed Percy and ran away, and now I'm here. An actress now, I guess."

Ryan nodded, taking it all in. "So you killed him in cold blood?" he asked. "I can't believe that."

"You don't have to," I assured him. "I didn't kill him in cold blood. It was nearly impossible for me to do what I did, but I _had_ to do it."

"You keep saying that!" Ryan cried. "But you won't tell me what your reason was."

Guilt settled in my stomach. I had to tell him. "I killed him to stop the war."

"War? What war?"

This was where I should have run away and never looked back. Instead, I charged straight at my doom with no weapons and no hope of escape.

"Something's coming," I murmured, sounding like one of those movie clichés. "Something bad, and I have to stop it. The prophecy… My friend—Rachel—she issued a prophecy. I was the only one who heard it, and—" I shuddered. "It was terrifying."

"What was it?"

"_When Earth has fallen  
And Death has confessed  
The son of the Sea will draw his last breath  
By Wisdom's hand  
Or by treachery's blade  
His death will the world destroy or save_."

"Oh." Ryan shivered violently. I handed him back his jacket. He slipped it on and wrapped his arms around me as I began to cry. Sobbing, I rested my head on his chest and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. He stroked my hair, whispering sweet, soothing words in my ear. Then he said, "We have to get out of here."

I couldn't disagree. Now that I'd told him, we were both in danger. The gods would have heard their names and their prophecy, and they would be coming for me. My only hope was to run and run fast. I had to get out of there before they found me, before they sent a messenger to get me.

"Come on," I grabbed Ryan's hand. "Pack your bags and meet me outside of Annie's house. Pack light."

He nodded. Then he grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me quickly before letting me go. I stumbled, dazed and sad.

When I got to Annie's, there was a boy my age sitting at the kitchen table, talking in a hushed, polite voice. I couldn't see his face. But he turned around as I opened the door, and I didn't even have to see it before I knew who it was. Penetrating, sea green eyes stared out from a tanned, handsome face.

It was Percy Jackson.

**A/N: Next chapter will be longer, I promise. I'm just tired. **


	6. Chapter 6

Before I could stop myself, I whispered his name, my voice barely audible even to myself. Percy stared at me blankly, as if he hadn't known he would see me here. His eyes took in everything: my face, my hair, my eyes, my clothes. He looked shell-shocked, too much to speak. I was shocked too.

"Annabeth?"

His voice was the same, but at the same time it was very different. He sounded older, wiser, more… timeless. Oh gods. Oh gods, oh gods. He was… he was…

"A god…" I murmured. Percy looked sympathetic for a moment, and then his face hardened.

"Yes, Annabeth," he said coldly. "A god."

I wanted to scream. Percy, my former boyfriend, was a god. He was a god! An actual, honest-to-goodness god! I should have been overjoyed to see him alive, but my heart was settling into my stomach (more like sinking, actually). Percy was standing right there, looking at me like I was a curse, and I couldn't even _begin_ to explain myself. Did he know about the prophecy? How much had the gods told him? Did this have something to do with my dream?

Sucking in a breath, I tried to steady the tremor in my voice as I asked, "H-how did you—how have you been?"

From the look in his eyes, Percy knew I was bluffing.

"I've been just fine, Annabeth." I wanted him to stop using my name. "Aside from the knowledge that my death was brought by… the girl I love."

With some small comfort, I noticed the smallest break in his voice.

"Percy," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

Annie wandered into the room, waving her wrinkled hands nervously.

"Maria, dear? Is everything all right?"

I nodded, swallowing the fear rising in my throat. Percy looked at me as if to ask: _Why are you calling yourself Maria_? I shrugged. Percy's eyes burned into mine. Finally, he turned to Annie.

"Your hospitality has been wonderful, ma'am," he said softly. "But I'm afraid I must take her with me."

Annie frowned. "Is she your sister?"

Percy glanced at me, distrust in his gaze. "She's my girlfriend."

There was a horrible moment of silence, and then Annie seemed to understand. The hurt in her eyes was almost too much to bear. I could almost read her mind. She was wondering about Ryan. What would he do? What would _I_ do? Had I been lying to them this whole time? Who was I really? Was my name even Maria?

"Annie, listen—"

"Go with him, Maria," she said, taking my hand kindly. "Only… You always have a home here, all right?"

Choking back tears, I nodded. "I'll go pack my bags. Tell Ryan… Tell him I'll miss him, and I'll call him."

I ran upstairs for my few possessions, my clothes, and weapons. Then, on a whim, I pushed open the window. It was wide enough and tall enough for me to fit through, and I could use the pipes to get down to the ground. The hardest part was deciding whether to do it.

I did it. I climbed down to the street and ran, knocking on Ryan's door on my way out of town. He opened it, carrying a bag similar to mine, his face dark and shadowed.

"Annabeth!" He used my real name, but somehow it didn't matter. I was Annabeth again. I had become Annabeth again the moment I saw Percy in the tiny kitchen.

"They know I'm here," I panted. "We've got to… got to get out. Now."

Ryan grabbed my hand and I dragged him down the dark streets. His breathing became heavy after a while, as he was unused to so much running and strain.

"Annabeth, what happened?" he asked as we stopped for a breath. I shook my head.

"Anything else. Ask me _anything_ else."

We ran and ran and ran, trying desperately to find the end of what once used to seem like a tiny little nothing town to us. But now, as we tried to escape, it seemed endless. By the time we reached the sign taking us out, the sun had fully plunged into the sea. It was pitch black. The only way I could tell Ryan was there was by the sound of his heavy breathing.

Finally, Ryan couldn't run anymore, and I was pretty tired myself. We sat down under a tree and huddled close together against the evening chill. His arms were strong and sturdy. It was almost like being with Percy.

"Can I ask you something?" Ryan asked. He didn't use my name—either one of them.

"Sure. Depends what, though," I added. Ryan nodded. I felt his chin bump the top of my head.

"Can I kiss you?" He sounded embarrassed, a little nervous, and exhausted. Why upset him?

"Yeah." I tilted my head up to brush my lips against his. They were warm and inviting.

Ryan smiled. "Thank you."

I blushed. "No. Thank _you_."

There was a pause where we both just sat there, wrapped in each other's arms for warmth, faces burning, hands and feet cold. We were just two tired kids on the run from ancient deities. Ryan wasn't even a demigod or a legacy, and yet we'd made it even these few hours. Maybe we could make it a few more and a few more, and then those hours would become days, weeks, months, years, a _lifetime_. Maybe we'd grow up and grow old. I'd protect him from monsters and he'd protect me from the nightmares and the guilt.

As Ryan drifted off to sleep next to me, I saw the shadows thicken and condense a little ways off. At first, it was easy to ignore, but when they cleared, there was a figure in the distance. My heart sank and I prayed it—or rather _he_—wouldn't notice me.

Of course, the gods weren't in my favor anymore. The boy turned and I got a good look at his face. I wouldn't have needed to see his face to know who he was anyways, but it was still a jolt. His eyes locked with mine and he nodded coldly before turning and marching away into the distance. But he would be back. I knew he would. Wherever he was going now, he was looking for backup, something or someone to hunt me down with.

If there's anyone you _don't_ want to be shadowed by, it's Nico di Angelo.

**Please feel free to tell me what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

After Nico disappeared, I couldn't sleep. Ryan woke up and coaxed me to rest my head on his knee while he kept watch. He wrapped a coat around my shoulders and stroked my hair. Eventually, I did fall asleep. I wished I hadn't almost immediately.

* * *

In my dream, I was standing in a dark cave. Percy was pacing back and forth in front of Nico, knotting his hands in his hair. His eyes were furious, practically _glowing_. He looked like he was about to smash his fists into the cave walls and bring them crashing down around himself and Nico. Nico looked shifty and nervous as he tried to placate Percy. Percy kept muttering to himself over and over,

"I had her! She was right there in front of me! And I let her go…"

"M-my lord," Nico stammered. Percy glared at him and he cast his eyes down. "Um, Percy, sorry. She might not be out of reach. We could, um, well, um… I suppose we could—"

"WHAT?" Percy bellowed, lashing out at a vase of lilies. "What are we even trying to do?"

Nico smirked. This smirk wasn't like his various other smiles and sneers, however. It was cruel, scary, full of hatred, deceit and… pain. He rubbed his hands together as if they were cold.

"We kill her," he said. "You _know_ what she did. You heard the prophecy, didn't you?"

"You've told it to me a million times. Of course I have."

Nico smiled, repeating verses he had obviously memorized and rehearsed.

"_When Earth has fallen  
And Death has confessed  
The son of the Sea will draw his last breath  
By Thunder's hand  
Or by treachery's blade  
His death will the world destroy or save_."

My dream self gasped. That wasn't the prophecy! It was _Wisdom's_ blade! Nico was lying to Percy! He was lying… But why? What would Nico get from killing me, especially since I suspected he _liked_ me? Still, the thought of my death seemed to satisfy him greatly. And Percy seemed to agree. He was nodding, rubbing the back of his neck. Killing me must have been a hard decision. He glanced from Nico to… to a picture of me on a little table.

"Fine," Percy muttered gruffly. "We kill her. When?"

I didn't get to hear that part.

* * *

I woke up in a cold sweat, scrambling to my feet, pulling Ryan with me as I lurched up. He was wide-awake already, something I had to admire. For a mortal, he was doing incredibly well on the run.

"Annabeth, what's wrong?" he asked. It wasn't the last time he'd have to ask it either. I slowed down, out of breath and cold.

"They're going to find me," I whispered. I could feel a sob building up in my chest. There wasn't much that could stop the tears, so I didn't try. Ryan held me in his arms as I cried and cried. I deserved it, I thought. I deserved whatever punishment the gods could make up for me. I deserved worse than death. Death was_ merciful_. If Percy found me and killed me, he'd do it quickly. I had to believe that some small part of him would have mercy enough to dispatch me quickly into a torturous afterlife. I wondered what my eternal punishment would be.

Ryan kissed me gently, and I wished I could feel more for him. Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I knew I _was_ starting to like him… maybe even _love_ him.

"Then why run away?" His voice was dreadfully hushed. I shivered.

"I run away because I have to. I can't just sit and think about what I've done! I can't just accept myself as a murderer!"

A voice from behind me said, "And I can't accept that you're still alive."

It was Nico di Angelo.

"What do you want, Nico?" I snapped, unable to stop myself. Nico smiled creepily.

"Percy, for one thing," he mused. "But I can't have that. So the next best thing would be to have you dead."

Ryan pulled on my arm as if to ask: _Who is this guy_? I shrugged him off and reached for my sword. It wasn't there. I'd lost my dagger in Tartarus, and my sword wasn't there. Oh gods.

"Ryan!" I hissed. "Sword. In my bag. Get it."

He ducked down to shuffle through my bag. As he tossed me the sword, Nico lashed out with his Stygian iron blade. I shoved Ryan out of the way just in time and somersaulted to my feet. Ryan stared, open-mouthed in awe. But I didn't have time for an audience.

"You're a liar!" I growled. Nico feigned confusion.

"Am I?"

"Yes! That prophecy—you made up a line."

Nico smiled again, coldly. "Yes, I suppose I did."

"And you told Percy lies. Do you—" He stabbed at me, and I parried. "_Really_ think he'd fall for someone who told him _lies_?"

Nico smiled again, sadly this time. His whole face seemed to fill with pain. "No," he whispered. "I don't."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm broken inside." His voice cracked. "I've been broken since I was little. None of you have been able to see how broken I am, have you? Only Leo saw it, but he's gone now. I can't have anything I want. I couldn't have my sister, or Percy, or a loving family, or even a _friend_." The way he spit out the word _friend_ made me nervous. He was right.

"Nico, I'm sorry," I said, starting forward. He thrust out his sword. I couldn't parry this time, and it clipped my shoulder. The Stygian iron sent chills through my body. I gasped, dropping to my knees, crying out in pain. For a second, something almost _kind_ flashed in Nico's eyes. But then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He was about to strike at me again, when something—or someone—came hurtling from the dark. In a flash of green eyes and black hair, Nico was thrown to the ground. His sword skittered across the grass, out of his reach. For a moment, he struggled against arms much stronger than his own, and then he lay still, breathing hard.

My savior got to his feet, and I saw who it was. Percy. Percy had saved me.

"Why?" I asked, much like he had as my knife had slashed across his throat. Percy regarded me coolly before cracking a smile.

"Because I still love you," he said. With that, he was gone, dispersed in a blast of ocean breeze, leaving me confused and upset.

**Yeah… Nico's kind of the "villain." I always have him as the protagonist, so I decided why not have him be the antagonist this time?**


	8. Chapter 8

Ryan grabbed Nico as soon as Percy was gone. Nico struggled, but he wasn't really trying. If he _had_ been trying, Ryan would have been dead in seconds. Fortunately, Nico kind of played dead in his arms, allowing himself to be dragged to his feet and tied by his wrists and ankles. I wanted to say that wouldn't help, that Nico could just shadow-travel himself away, but I didn't. Maybe I secretly hoped Nico would escape. Then I wouldn't have to look at him.

As if he knew what I was thinking, Nico laughed. I glared at him, but I couldn't bring myself to hate him. He was so thin, so pale, so alone. I wondered what could have made him turn to murder—even in the demigod world, where the line between murder and doing the right thing are very fuzzy. Had he always been like this? I couldn't believe that the ten year-old boy I'd met at Westover hall had turned into the Nico di Angelo in front of me. It was unnerving.

"Annabeth," Ryan murmured. "Who _was_ that guy? The one who saved you, I mean."

I shuddered, hugging myself against the chill. "You know who that was," I whispered. "Don't ask me."

Ryan fell silent, threw Nico on the ground and glared at him. Nico stared back calmly, his eyes narrowed.

"You going to kill me?" he asked. "If you are, I would do it slowly, enjoy it more. I'm a liar, a cheater, a murderer." He looked at me. "I don't know what you're thinking with this one. He's mortal and weak."

"I'm not weak," Ryan spat. "But you can't just try to kill my girlfriend and get away with it."

This made Nico mad. "SHE'S NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" he shrieked. I jumped to Ryan's defense.

"And why can't I be?"

"Because Percy loves you. You heard him." His expression was very dark. "He's a _god_, Annabeth. You can't just turn your back on a god. You'd be forgiven on Olympus if you'd stay with him. You'd be the wife of a god. You'd be _happy_. You can't…"

As he faltered, I took my opportunity to ask, "What can't I do?"

"You can't hurt Percy like that."

"Why not?"

"Because you already killed him. He was _innocent_, Annabeth. I'm not trying to make him fall in love with me; I'm just trying to set things right."

I knelt down next to him, untying his arms and legs, helping him to his feet. He stretched for a minute, shaking out the tension in his limbs. Then he whirled around, grinning.

"Thank you," he said. "Why did you do it? Why are you doing _this_?" He gestured at the ropes in front of him. He had a point. He'd just tried to _kill_ me, and I was letting him go. But he was right about another thing. I'd killed Percy in cold blood. I realized that now. No matter what rubbish I'd been spewing to everyone about the prophecy and saving the world, it was in cold blood. Percy never deserved to die, not by my hand anyways. He deserved a long, healthy, happy life and he definitely deserved a better girlfriend.

"I'm not doing it for you," I spat, angry with myself more than Nico. "I'm doing it for _him_."

I think that's where Ryan kind of snapped. He had been frowning for a while since I'd cut Nico loose, but now he was livid. He turned on me, eyes narrowed. Before I could say anything, he cut me off.

"No! No, Annabeth!" he cried. "I'm talking now. Just… just two minutes. What is going on here?"

"No more than you know. Trust me, Ry—"

"Trust you?" he shrieked. "You're a-a murderer, Annabeth! And now there are people teleporting around and trying to stab you with swords. Who is this guy?"

"He's a…"

Ryan flinched backwards as I reached for his hand. His eyes were very wide and very frightened. I realized that it wasn't the best idea to bring him with me, but at the time I'd left, I hadn't seen any alternative. But now I'd ruined him and any hopes I'd had of a life with him in it… even if only for a while.

"Don't say _friend_," Ryan begged me. "Please don't say he's your friend."

I backtracked quickly. "He's not," I assured him. "He was, but I promise he's not. Not anymore."

Nico scoffed. "Come on!" he huffed. "Was I _ever_ your _real_ friend?"

He struck a nerve, I guess, because I grabbed his arm and dragged him along. "Come on, di Angelo," I muttered. "We're finding a new place to hide, and you're coming with us."

**~O~O~O~**

We walked for days. I don't know exactly how long it took, but we ended up in a country town. When we walked in, we were a sight to behold; ripped clothes, dirty faces and swords hanging at our waists (though very few mortals could actually see it). The ones who could see through the Mist seemed to know something otherworldly followed us. A young woman, maybe a few years older than Ryan and I, took us into her house, muttering to herself in another language.

"Where are we?" I asked. She smiled.

"The outskirts of Pennsylvania. No one will find you here." Her voice was simple and smooth, and she spoke with an accent. Nico's eyes widened and he said something in the same language the woman had been speaking. Her eyes lit up and she responded. I saw Nico blush.

"_Grazie,_" he said. Then in English, "I take great pride in my accent."

"You should," the young woman said. "I'm Mara. Please, follow me. I'd like to introduce you to my daughter."

Nico's eyes narrowed and I could see what he was thinking. This woman was gorgeous in a way I'd only known two people to be. Well, one had died very young, but the other was still alive. This woman—Mara—was slim and olive-skinned with silky, black hair. She had brown eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She looked like Bianca might have given the chance to grow up (Hunter of Artemis status discredited).

"Your daughter," Nico pressed. "How old is she?"

Mara smiled as if she were remembering her sweetest moments. "Oh, just a child. But she is my pride and joy. She's only a year old."

I watched Nico as he blinked rapidly, not daring to hope that he could be right.

"And her name?"

Mara laughed, the sound like a tiny crystal bell. "What concern is it of yours?" She must have seen Nico's disappointment because she said, "Her name is Bianca."

Nico's eyes lit up, making him look ten years old again. He rushed forward, matching his pace to the young woman's, battering her with questions in Italian. It all made sense, even to me. His sister had chosen to be reborn about a year before, so it would almost be right that she would end up in an Italian-speaking family nearby. Under such short notice, it would be difficult to relocate Bianca anywhere else.

We arrived at the woman's house just before sunset. She hadn't lied when she said it was the outskirts of Pennsylvania. The house was a small one in the woods, surrounded by a tiny garden and a ring of trees. It was beautiful.

"Come," said Mara. "I'll introduce you to Bianca."

She led us into the house and into a small bedroom. There was a bed and a cradle. In the cradle, there was a baby girl. She was olive-skinned like her mother, with tufts of black hair and a sprinkling of freckles. When Nico saw her, he gasped.

"She looks… like…"

Mara regarded him warmly. "You had a sister, didn't you?"

Nico nodded. "Her name was Bianca. My mother's name was Maria. Our father is… well… He's not really that involved. Bianca died five years ago."

Mara sighed. "Bianca's father isn't here." She looked wistful as she described him to us. "He looked like you, Nico, with high cheekbones like yours, pale skin like yours, and those dark, wild eyes. He had your hair too." She reached out and touched Nico's hair. "Though yours needs a good washing. All of you."

We nodded and allowed her to usher us towards the washroom. We took turns bathing and changing into clean clothes. As we did, Mara tended our wounds individually. The wound on my shoulder burned.

"Annabeth," Nico said. I turned to find him standing behind me. He looked much better with his hair washed and some new clothes. Mara had laughed as she tried to find something that would fit him. She'd had a brother before, but none of his clothes would ever have fit Nico; he was too thin. Finally, she gave him one of her black, long sleeved shirts and a pair of jeans. We laughed because we hadn't laughed in a long, long time, and Mara laughed with us. That night, as I fell asleep, I could almost forget that Nico wanted to kill me. Almost.


End file.
